Moonwalking
So you've been to Montreal this weekend? Good for you.
Oh, me? Nothing much. I went to the moon.
It was freezing cold the other night, and I had the wrong shoes. The shoes I can't wear my orthesises with.
I hate those things, I really do. When my parents told me I had to wear orthesises because my knees were ill-shaped, I thought the world would be ending right THERE. I know, no ones gives a damn if you have a piece of blue foam in your shoes... but still, for a 10 year-old it's terrifying to know you can't walk straight without them. So anyways my parents had to convince me that they were some kind of space gear for me to accept the doom of being the idiot who can't walk properly. But now I'm kind of used to them. With time they were not only THE stupid cork thingies in my running shoes, they were MY stupid cork thingies. They're part of me, and I miss them when they're not around.
(I was being highly figurative here).
The only good thing about orthesises is that they are like an extra sole to my shoes so they insulate my feet from the snow and the cold. Of course, when I'm not wearing them, they do no good. And it was the case today. I was strolling down the street and I barely had time to notice the cold before my feet were completely frozen. It was a weird feeling: I was walking, but I wasn't feeling the impact of each step I was taking or the shape of the ground beneath my feet. It was exactly as if I was sort of... disconnected. And then I started thinking that it was probably how one would feel if he was walking on the moon.
I wasn't there in July 1969. I was not even a project. But like everyone I eventually saw with amazement the blurry black and white images of the first steps on the moon by Armstrong and Aldrin. At the time, it did not come to my mind that it was the low gravity on the moon that was making them walk like that.
To me, it was all because of their space suits.
I thought that the more "cartoon-like" you looked, the less the laws of physics were applying to you. Thererfore this was why scuba-divers could breath underwater and volcanologists could go so close from lava... theirs suits had no real protection purpose: in fact, they were turning them into "unreal" people, hence helping them escape their human contraints.
But what about MY space gear? Could that make me able to walk like astronauts? I raced home, changed my shoes and went back out. When I judged that I was in an appropriate location for my experimentations (a nearby soccer field), I stopped and tried to jump up a bit. Meanwhile the cold had gained my toes and feet again. If I hadn't had my eyes open, my frozen feet would have completely messed up my spatial orientation. I looked around. No one in sight.
I started bouncing from foot to foot across the field, trying to reproduce as accurately as possible the astronauts on the moon. And then it happened: I could walk just like them! My assumptions were true: each step was taking me higher and higher as if I had no weight at all. Laughing hysterically, I spent a good 10 minutes jumping over and over again, nearly flying over the frozen ground, then I paused, listening to my slightly heavier breathing. It was enough. I had seen what I wanted, I had proved what was to be proven. I started walking back home and went in.
As I was taking off my running shoes, I glanced at MY cork thingies with a smile, then went to get the daily bad news on TV.
Oh, me? Nothing much. I went to the moon.
It was freezing cold the other night, and I had the wrong shoes. The shoes I can't wear my orthesises with.
I hate those things, I really do. When my parents told me I had to wear orthesises because my knees were ill-shaped, I thought the world would be ending right THERE. I know, no ones gives a damn if you have a piece of blue foam in your shoes... but still, for a 10 year-old it's terrifying to know you can't walk straight without them. So anyways my parents had to convince me that they were some kind of space gear for me to accept the doom of being the idiot who can't walk properly. But now I'm kind of used to them. With time they were not only THE stupid cork thingies in my running shoes, they were MY stupid cork thingies. They're part of me, and I miss them when they're not around.
(I was being highly figurative here).
The only good thing about orthesises is that they are like an extra sole to my shoes so they insulate my feet from the snow and the cold. Of course, when I'm not wearing them, they do no good. And it was the case today. I was strolling down the street and I barely had time to notice the cold before my feet were completely frozen. It was a weird feeling: I was walking, but I wasn't feeling the impact of each step I was taking or the shape of the ground beneath my feet. It was exactly as if I was sort of... disconnected. And then I started thinking that it was probably how one would feel if he was walking on the moon.
I wasn't there in July 1969. I was not even a project. But like everyone I eventually saw with amazement the blurry black and white images of the first steps on the moon by Armstrong and Aldrin. At the time, it did not come to my mind that it was the low gravity on the moon that was making them walk like that.
To me, it was all because of their space suits.
I thought that the more "cartoon-like" you looked, the less the laws of physics were applying to you. Thererfore this was why scuba-divers could breath underwater and volcanologists could go so close from lava... theirs suits had no real protection purpose: in fact, they were turning them into "unreal" people, hence helping them escape their human contraints.
But what about MY space gear? Could that make me able to walk like astronauts? I raced home, changed my shoes and went back out. When I judged that I was in an appropriate location for my experimentations (a nearby soccer field), I stopped and tried to jump up a bit. Meanwhile the cold had gained my toes and feet again. If I hadn't had my eyes open, my frozen feet would have completely messed up my spatial orientation. I looked around. No one in sight.
I started bouncing from foot to foot across the field, trying to reproduce as accurately as possible the astronauts on the moon. And then it happened: I could walk just like them! My assumptions were true: each step was taking me higher and higher as if I had no weight at all. Laughing hysterically, I spent a good 10 minutes jumping over and over again, nearly flying over the frozen ground, then I paused, listening to my slightly heavier breathing. It was enough. I had seen what I wanted, I had proved what was to be proven. I started walking back home and went in.
As I was taking off my running shoes, I glanced at MY cork thingies with a smile, then went to get the daily bad news on TV.
posted by DJ Mums at 8:17 p.m.
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